Check this out. I SWEAR

The most epic thing ever. Zoom in on everyone at the inauguration right here. Like, forealz. Do it. NOW

I have different forms.

This is me when I'm moderately happy.


This is me trying to be cute.


This is me blending in with the cool kids.



This is me, a little after Christmas showing how pissed I am at something or someone.



And this is me, at 6:49 am on Friday, 1/23/08 being upset and feeling like shit.




See, what had happened was.
I went with mama to pick papa up from work.
I was pretty lively, and I was expecting a burger from him, that's why I went along.
So, we got my papa, and I got my burger, and things went pretty smoothly and with no incidents for a bit.
Then papa asked about my grades for the 1st semester and for the exams, and I told him a dozen times that we hadn't gotten them yet and to chillax about it. Then he was all like, to my mama, "Oh blah blah blah blah blah, shit shit shit, Ma have you seen her D? Naa siya ug D"
And I was like "Shiiit Hamie, that was for a reading log assignment and it wasn't worth anything, my overall grade is still an A, don't get stressed about it yo."
But, I suppose they were taking mt response the wrong way.
My mama chirps in and goes "Ate, what are you getting all in a tiffy for? We're just asking, no need to be all heated at us"
So, I go " Bullshit you are homeboy, the vibes I'm getting from both o' y'all is pressure. There's so much pressure y'all are puttin' on me. It's always GET AN A GET AN A GET A MOTHERFUCKING A"

I knew a cruel mouthful was coming from my father, directed at me, so I covered my ears and hummed Coin Operated Boy. All I could hear were barks from the fucking mutt.



There was a dog out in the street as we passed by, you see.


My papa, on the other hand, was indeed giving me a mouthful.
I couldn't hear him, thankfully as my ears were covered pretty hard, and I was humming pretty loud. There were brief moments when I heard nothing and uncovered my ears for a bit, but oh no, it wasn't over.
See, my papa when he gets angry does not yell, he talks, in a ruthless way.
You know when you can hear anger drip from someones voice without them yelling? They can even talk in sign language if you want and you realize they're angry! Yeah, kinda like that.
So finally I don't hear anything for a while so I uncover my ears.
LOL. It's mama's turn!
She goes "Ina, did you hear what your papa said? Were you listening?"
And I said, like the honest smart-arse I am,
"No, I wasn't listening"
"Ina! Were you listening?!"
OH! Irony.
"I said no!"
Then the authority's ruthless voice comes along. Stupid little snippets of what he means to say. He said something about kids these days and if he had talked that way to his father he'd get a good hiding. He said I was lucky I wasn't getting no backhand from him. OH HELL NO. Then he said " You can go back home if you want" I think he meant The Philippines.
"Whenever you want to go, just go, I'd happily pay the ticket. Pag layas. Go run away"

We had arrived at where we were headed by then.
Seafood City.
They parked the car and went inside. I just kinda lay there wanting to sleep, and feeling a bit chafed. I was pissed, and when I get pissed I cry. I don't know why that is, I just do. I want to yell, scream, shout, but my brother is sleeping in his car seat. I'm pretty choked up anyway.
After a while I manage to muffle my yell with the seat.
I yell " I DON"T DESERVE THIS SHIT" so loud it makes my throat sore.
When my parents got back, I was halfway asleep.
We were home before I knew it, and I got inside the house first, cut the burger in half went up to my room and ate the damn thing.
And then, I slept.






Big day ahead of me. There's no school today, but we have a soccer game.
Did you know I scored 2 goals at the Chaparral game on Wednesday?


Wish us luck,
ina

Hmph.

Everyone in this house.
Everyone that I live with.
Everyone I know.
I cannot stand any of them.
I cannot stand any of you.
I cannot even stand myself.



We are all hypocrites.
This is a hypocrite and I am a hypocrite and You are a hypocrite, so that is a hypocrite.
He is a hypocrite and She is a hypocrite and It is a hypocrite and They are hypocrites.
They are hypocrites.
They are hypocrites.
They are hypocrites.
They are hypocrites.


I want to know if this method works when you feel like venting.
A lot of people sure think so, on Bebo.

1.
Hey, man. Heeeyyyyyyyyy man.
Just before, I decided that I would talk to you no longer, because every time you say something, anything, it makes me consider doing 3 things.
1) Ask you to "Shut the fuck up, please"
2) Ask you to "Shut the fuck up, please" and then tell you the reason why.
" Because when you talk it drives me insane. Literally insane."
3) Smash my head into the wall, so I no longer need to hear your annoying little voice. I tried with the bed. I went *bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bangity bang bang. But it was my bed, not the wall, so it was more like soft bangs. You annoy me, at times. Congratulations.

2.
I don't like being told what to do. I especially don't like being told what not to do. So, I am in a fucked up position, because well, you have authority over me, and you can be a right asshole when you need to be. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Fuuuck.

Fuck
Fuck
Fuck, you.
=)

What you gon' do motherfuckaaah?

3.
Haha. Shame, you deserved what you got. Because you were being an asshole. I'm sorry, but you were. You ARE. You should get an attitude adjustment, is what you should do.

4.
No.
No, no, no, no.

5.
OBAMA IS NOT THE FUCKING DEVIL.
HE IS NOT THE ANTICHRIST.
HE IS NOT A TERRORIST.
HE IS NOT ALL FOR ABORTION.
HE IS NOT ALL FOR GAYS OR LESBIANS.
HE IS NOT AGAINST GOD.
HE IS FOR FREE SPEECH.
HE IS FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE OPINIONS.
HE BELIEVES THAT PEOPLE HAVE A RIGHT TO HAVE A CHOICE.
Unlike you.
You only believe in one thing.
Sorry to burst your bubble but not everybody believes so much in what you do. Not even me, even though I should, because I was raised to, but I don't, not entirely.I believe that everybody has their own opinions, and that nobody should go to hell for having an opinion, or beliefs.
Everybody has a motherfucking opinion.
Everybody has a way of looking at something.
And the way I look at you, I think you are selfish.
Don't damn me to hell.


6.
Of course it can fucking hold something. Don't be an ingrate.



7.
You.
I hate you.
Why do you have to be this way?
Why can't you just accept things as they are? Which is that nothing is going your way. Accept that, and you'll be happy.
Guaranteed? Hellz to the fuck no!
Your opinions matter.
Fuck, stop swearing too. If you want guys to buy you dinner don't swear. Ladies don't swear. Hahahahah, you are no lady, damn straight.
Ugh.
Its official.
You are insane.


So, I don't think this method works.
Its just kind of annoying, and confusing.
It gives me a headache.
A killer one.




Officially insane,
ina

Oh Shiiiyet.

This song.

This song right here.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Ruler - Marnie Stern

There was more to this

You annoy the shit out of me.

I just want to throw a spatula over your head and tell you to SHUT THE FUCK UP, please.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

and then, I need you, just for a bit to PISS OFF.

Piss off. Piss off. Piss off. Piss off. Piss, the fuck, off.

Don't talk to me like I'm a motherfucking mongoloid.

Don't talk to me like you do, all slow like and stop exaggerating every word you say, like I won't understand it.

Stop asking me to do stupid pointless stuff, just because you see that Im doing something.

Okay.

I'm good.

Ode to my legs.

And you're going in, in, for the kill, kill, for the killer kiss, kiss, for the kiss, kiss

At soccer practice today we spent an hour running up and down the bleachers.

Thats an hour of bouncing up and down 100 meter wide bleachers.

Up and down, which of course probably doubled that 100 meters which makes 200 meters.

And of course there were 2 sets of bleachers so that doubles up the 200.

And then theres half of the track we had to run in between to get to one set of bleachers to another.

Thats another 100.

Then theres the part where we had to run the whole track once.

So thats what?

800 meters, right?

And then theres that fence we had to jump to get to the first set of bleachers, because the coach was too lazy ass to open that up.

That wasnt much of a distance but it sure as hell was some workout for my upper body.

Oh! right.

We did this whole process 4 times.

Well done calf muscles. 

Well done.

The bruises on my face are healing. SLowly, but they are healing.

But it is affecting my performance on the field.

Headbutting someone who came out of nowhere can be quite traumatising.

So, now I squeal when they bring their leg all the way back and are going for that kick.

Hmph.

Coach Chatman called me over, and he goes

"Me and Coach Luis and Angel were just talking here, and we decided to nickname you, uh, B.E."

"B.E.?"

"Think about it"

"...."

"?"

"I uh, don't get it.."

"Black Eye!"

"OH! Haha! Thats clever, man. You guys are funny as"

Lmao.

Finals? FINAL!

I don't have a clue why that title is, what it is.

I just neede a title.

I haven't been blogging, I don't know why.

I suppose its because I've been working hard at soccer.

I suppose its because I've been trying to sweet talk Mr. Felgar to change that B.

I suppose its because I've been getting just a little more lazy everyday.

=)

So hey, my parents really piss me off. Just like how parents 'ought to.

It's not all the time that they frustrate me.

Just when they are being real asses.

Like, when I'm doing something I seem to be enjoying. They think of something stupid for me to do just so I don't have the chance to actually enjoy myself.

Uhm, Finals week this week.

I'm trying to be prepared.

Prepared than anyone else I know anyway.

I'm supposed to be studying right now.

Its Monday night.

Tomorrow is the first day of finals. I'm trying not to be worried about it, but however bizarre this may seem, I just realized that I havent had any kind of stressing test or exam ever in my years of school ever.

No NCEA's or SAT's, or whatever they do here. 

No semester finals or end of year big-ol-blowout.

NONE whatsoever.

I suppose its because I'm all messed up with whatever grade or year I'm in.

For all I know I could be allowed to graduate next year.

Heh. yeah.

RIGHT.

This is what soccer does to you.

It makes you look like a swollen, prune.

It makes you look like midgets got in a tiffy and jumped you.

It makes you look like you went all schizo and starting punching yourself on one side of the face, and then the other, just so it matches.

It makes you sprint for the ball high in the air and prepare to head it, but you don't see the defender coming at you.

It makes you bring your head in with all your strength expecting to hear the satisfactory synthetic leather thump of the soccer ball landing in the goal.

It makes you head, with all your strength the top of someones cranium instead.

It makes you drop to the ground clutching your head and gasp frantically for your breath back.

It makes you black out for a few seconds and open your eyes to harsh field lights with big fat unexpected tears rolling down your face.

It makes your nose bleed.

It makes you look up at everyone, and it lets you crack a joke.

Soccer is fun.